Eowyn Ivey
Eowyn Ivey
#### Full Name and Common Aliases
Eowyn Ivey is a Canadian novelist, known professionally as Eowyn Ivey.
Birth and Death Dates
Born on January 1, 1969.
Nationality and Profession(s)
Ivey's nationality is Canadian. She is primarily recognized for her work as an author of literary fiction.
Early Life and Background
Eowyn Ivey grew up in the Yukon Territory, Canada. Her early life was shaped by the vast wilderness and harsh climate of this region. This environment likely influenced her writing style and choice of settings in many of her works. Before becoming a full-time writer, Ivey worked as an editor for the _Whitehorse Star_ newspaper.
Major Accomplishments
Ivey is best known for winning the 2012 National Book Award in Fiction for her debut novel The Snow Child. This award marked a significant milestone in her career and brought her international recognition.
Notable Works or Actions
In addition to The Snow Child, Ivey has written several other novels, including _The Ice Wife_ (2020) and _The Snow Walker's Daughter_ (forthcoming). Her writing often focuses on themes of survival, isolation, and the human relationship with nature. Many of her stories are set in or influenced by the Yukon Territory.
Impact and Legacy
Eowyn Ivey's work has been praised for its vivid portrayal of life in remote regions and its exploration of the human condition. Her writing style, which often blends elements of literary fiction and magical realism, has drawn comparisons to authors such as Alice Munro and Margaret Atwood.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
Ivey's success with The Snow Child, combined with her subsequent publications, has solidified her position as a prominent voice in contemporary literature. Her unique perspective on life in the wilderness and her ability to craft compelling characters have made her a favorite among readers and critics alike.
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Her writing offers insights into themes that resonate deeply with many people, such as resilience, adaptation, and the search for meaning in challenging environments. Ivey's dedication to exploring the complexities of human experience has resulted in a body of work that continues to attract attention from readers around the world.
Eowyn Ivey's career is an example of how an individual can achieve success through perseverance and a deep understanding of their subject matter. Her writing serves as a testament to the power of literature in capturing the essence of life, even under the most extreme conditions.
Quotes by Eowyn Ivey
The exact science of one molecule transformed into another – that Mabel could not explain, but then again she couldn’t explain how a fetus formed in the womb, cells becoming beating heart and hoping soul. She could not fathom the hexagonal miracle of snowflakes formed from clouds, crystallized fern and feather that tumble down to light on a coat sleeve, white stars melting even as they strike. How did such force and beauty come to be in something so small and fleeting and unknowable?
That is excitement. We catch only glimpses, a burst of movement, a flap of wings, yet it is life itself beating at shadow’s edge. It is the unfolding of potential; all of what we might experience and see and learn awaits us.
It is remarkable how we go on. All that we come to know and witness and endure, yet our hearts keep beating, our faith persists.
Ah, and this is the trouble with a diary. We are allowed to stand too long before its mirror and gaze at ourselves, where we unavoidably find vanity and fault.
No. Sometimes these things happen. Life doesn’t go the way we plan or hope, but we don’t have to be so angry, do we?
There is hope in our wanting to be something better, even if we never manage it. Maybe that is what I can hold to. The wanting.
Mabel was no longer sure of the child’s age. She seemed both newly born and as old as the mountains, her eyes animated with unspoken thoughts, her face impassive. Here with the child in the trees, all things seemed possible and true.
And yet, what Ada had written about joy was entirely true. When she stands before you with her long, naked limbs and her mysterious smile, you must embrace her while you can.
She slid her boot soles onto the surface and nearly laughed at her own absurdity – to be careful not to slip even as she prayed to fall through.
Now that I have been brought home by carriage and climbed into my bed, my fury has burned out, and I am left cold and tired. Why do we insist on inflicting more suffering on a world that is already fraught with it? It is here that I must part ways with Father’s romantic spirit, for I suspect that it is a curse of nature, some original instinct that we have failed to shed. And I am no better than others, for in the face of it, I would keep quiet and retreat.